


ACOTAR Prompts & Drabbles

by CatastrophicallyInLoveWithBooks



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ALL THE GOOD THINGS, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatastrophicallyInLoveWithBooks/pseuds/CatastrophicallyInLoveWithBooks
Summary: a bunch of drabbles and prompts i got on tumblr. will add tags and characters/ships/ change the rating as I post chapters1. Nessian - A hoarse whisper, 'Kiss me'2. Nessian - Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them before giving in3. Elriel - When one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more4. Feysand - “I can’t stand seeing you this miserable. There has to be something I can do.”5. Nessian - Dancing with no music playing6. Morain - Baby, it's cold outside





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @lu-cien on tumblr

From afar, she looks perfectly fine. Everything always does.

Cassian stares at Nesta from the doorway, unsure of whether she might have heard him or not. She is standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out beyond the Sidra, the warm glow of the sunset illuminating her silhouette. Cassian thinks she looks ethereal – an angel who found its way from Elysium into this grievous world.  Her posture is perfectly erect, as always. Her hair is flawlessly plaited into a crown. Her dress is impeccable and fit for a queen.

Yet as he moves towards her, it’s as if the image shifts before his eyes. He notices the slight curve of her spine, as if her shoulders are weighed down and the ground is waiting for her to crumple. He notices the tremor in her fingers, even as she keeps them wrapped around her slender arms, hugging herself as if to keep herself together. And when he’s next to her, he sees the wet trails on her cheeks, the teardrops clumping her eyelashes together and making her eyes an impossibly light shade of blue – like a flash of lightning in the middle of a storm. Despite all this, he can’t help but think she looks achingly beautiful.

He’s not surprised that she’s been crying, though, he was expecting it. It was the reason he came to find her – the string tied to his ribs wrenching him in her direction so forcefully that his breath caught in his throat. It had subdued now that he was next to her, and Nesta’s crying seems to have subdued as well, long past the stage of choked sobs and gasping breaths – if it had ever even got to that. He doesn’t know if perhaps violent crying would be better than this quiet anguish but either way, he feels her pain and sorrow as if it was his own: murky water drowning his heart, a heavy blanket smothering his lungs, a frozen chill numbing his bones.

He stands silently next to her, wordlessly offering his strength to her and she doesn’t say anything either – another thing he expected. Nesta had never been one of many words, especially when it came to her feelings and vulnerabilities, and their bond, the profound understanding between them, was deeper than words could convey anyway.

They stand next to each other in silence until the sun starts to dip behind the horizon, Nesta staring out the window, fresh tears which she makes no move to dry rolling down her cheeks every once in a while, and Cassian staring blankly at the tranquillity of Velaris before him.

“It’s all just too much,” Nesta says at last, without turning to face him and her voice is a hoarse whisper. It’s more than Cassian thought she would offer so he takes her hand in his without taking his eyes off the city ahead. He doesn’t say anything. He knows she doesn’t want him to and he knows there’s nothing that could help. And he understands. He feels _too much_ every day since the war ended and he doesn’t know if he will ever be back to who he used to be before. Not when every time he closes his eyes, he sees the faces of soldiers – his or Hybern’s; it’s all the same now – seconds or minutes, if the killing blow wasn’t a clean one, before the light left their eyes forever. Not when every time he sees his family, his High Lord and Lady and his closest and oldest friends around him he says a little thank you to the Mother that they’re all safe. Not when he had been ready to give up his life for the woman next to him, for Nesta, his mate, and she had been ready to die next to him, and then they both got to live after that.

She turns to face him and she sees the tears flowing freely on her face now, he sees her woeful stare and he rubs soothing circles with his thumb over her knuckles wishing he could take all her pain away with the motion. His eyes flicker across her face, taking in the furrowing of her brow, the twitch of her mouth, the blinks meant to stop the sadness from pouring out of her body in rivulets of water and salt and he feels utterly helpless. His strength and presence is all he can offer and he knows she is grateful for that but he wishes he could do more.

‘Kiss me,’ she whispers, her hands grabbing at the front of his shirt but making no further move. ‘Please,’ she sobs and she closes her eyes, her face crumpled in sorrow and tilts her face up to his.

He knows the kind of comfort she seeks all too well. He’s sought it too before in pretty eyes, and flirty smiles and fevered touches. But he also knows the bitter taste it leaves in your mouth afterwards, and he knows it doesn’t help at all and he knows it would only complicate things between them even more.

So he cups her face gently, lowers his head and presses his lips with incredible tenderness to her forehead. He stays like that for a couple of seconds, neither of them moving, before he draws back to look at her. Her eyes are still closed, her expression still one of grief and he carefully runs his thumb across one cheek and then the other, wiping away the spilled tears.

When she looks up and blue grey eyes which hide a nearly broken soul behind them finally meet his, he says the thing she had always needed to hear, his words more of a promise for the future than a simple statement: “I’m here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nessian. Prompt: Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them before giving in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @modernbookfae on Tumblr <3  
> for an extra dose of feels listen to I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

Cassian took in Nesta’s sleeping form. He would never tire of coming back to Velaris and seeing her - she was the only thing he ever wanted to see. She was curled up on the bed, half on his side, as if she had unconsciously tried to find him in her sleep. She had kicked off the sheets sometime during the night and they lay tangled around her calves, as if they were waves, kissing and caressing her flesh - as if she was a Goddess born out of seafoam.

He unbuckled his weapons belt and placed it slowly on top of their armoire, careful not to make any noise. He turned around again and watched her as he slowly undid the clasps of his flying leathers. He trailed his gaze over the contours of her slim body, covered only by a thin grey silk nightgown, and let his eyes linger over every dip and curve. Her skin looked impossibly smooth, unmarked, untouched, unblemished and it was so pale it seemed to be almost glowing in the moonlight. He would have thought her a statue carefully crafted out of the finest marble were it not for the steady rise and fall of her chest.

He removed the top part of his leathers and placed it silently on a chair before moving closer to the bed and working the fastenings of his trousers. His eyes followed the curve of her calf, the steep decline to the sensitive hollow at the back of her knee, the exposed flesh of her thighs, the arc of her hip where her nightgown was bunched up, the valley of her waist and the peaks of her breasts before dragging lazily over the compelling lines of her shoulder and the graceful column of her neck and finally resting on her face.

He dropped his trousers on the floor and climbed into bed next to her, gently, so as not to rouse her. He noticed her delicate hand resting on the pillow next to her face and with an impossibly soft touch he traced the contours of her fingers, his own fingers just barely brushing her skin. Wrist. Knuckle. Fingernail. Repeated five times as if he wanted to memorise the shape of each bone and muscle and tendon. He finally raised his eyes to her face, now inches away from his, and his breath whooshed out of him in a shaky sigh at her beauty. He doubted he would ever get used to how utterly devastating she was.

With the same ghosting touch, he traced the determined line of her brow and depression of her temple, hovered over her eyelid, her eyelashes, as delicate as strands of spider silk, tickling his skin. He followed the strong line of her nose, charted the curve of her cheekbone back to her temple before coming back down on the line of her jaw to the point of her chin.

At last, he set his eyes on the bow of her lips. They were slightly parted and her breath stirred the wisps of hair fanned out on her pillow. With a feather light touch, he followed the shape of her cupid’s bow, tracing her upper lip from one corner to the other, his fingers almost shaking from how much he loved her, every single thing about her, and how much he’d missed her while he had been away. He allowed himself a small indulgence and let his fingers graze the plump swell of her bottom lip. He stared at her rosebud mouth, at the sheer familiarity of every curve and crease and contour and willed his body not to move.

His heart constricted painfully, his windpipe felt like it was being choked by a tight fist and had he not been lying down already, the unadulterated force of his love for this female, this woman turned fae, this Goddess - _his mate_ \- would have brought him to his knees. He felt her every breath, keeping time with his own lungs. He felt her every thought and feeling as strongly as he felt his own. He felt the beat of her heart beating alongside his own. Two bodies crafted from the same stardust. Two instruments tuned to sing the same song, forever in perfect harmony.

Her mouth looked altogether way too inviting for him to resist and he had missed it - her mouth and every single part of her as well but oh, her wicked mouth! That he had missed the most. He was utterly hopeless before her. So he dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers for just a few heartbeats and the tightness in his chest eased and then worsened as he pulled away.

Nesta stirred slightly and shifted closer to him, placing her hand right above his heart and nestling her head in the crook of his arm, a faint smile on her lips, before murmuring a sleepy ‘welcome home’ and Cassian realised that for the first time in all the centuries he had been on earth, he finally knew what ‘home’ meant.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by @nessiansmut on Tumblr  
> join me in the trashcan (same username)

Azriel is certain he could watch Elain talk for hours and he would never get bored. His eyes follow the shape of her rosebud mouth as she enunciates every word. She’s talking about her favourite seasons, and how rain makes her feel calm and content and not at all unhappy even though she’s stuck inside and how the sunshine energises her. She’s explaining how she’s fascinated by nature and she thinks every plant in her garden is a small miracle, blooming to life every spring despite the harsh winters. Azriel can’t help but think she’s as mesmerising as the miracles of nature she talks so fondly about. He’s aware his expression must be a mix of longing and amusement and total awe but this woman is unlike anything he’s ever seen before and she makes his heart beat in a tempo he hasn’t ever felt - slightly too irregular and stuttered.

She’s sitting on the picnic blanket next to him, leaning on one arm and she tilts her head and smiles up at him. Her hands play with the folds of her skirts where they’re gathered around her calves and her bare feet are stretched beyond the blanket. She’s wiggling her toes in the grass as she talks, Azriel notices with a smile. A gust of wind makes her hair blow in her face and goosebumps rise on her arms and Azriel finds the scene before him utterly endearing. She crinkles her nose in annoyance and brushes her hair from her face but her fingers leave a small streak of mud in their wake. A low chuckle escapes from Azriel’s mouth, his eyes sparkling.

“Again?” Elain almost whines. She’s done this so many times before that she’s learned to recognise what Azriel’s reaction means. She wipes her fingers on the underside hem of her skirt, a conspiratorial look on her face, stifling a smile and warning Az not to comment. She rubs at her cheek. The stubborn mark refuses to fade.

“Did I get it?” Azriel shakes his head and smiles as Elain’s face becomes frustrated. He reaches and swipes his fingers over a bloom from Elain’s rosebush, collecting the dew off the petals on his fingertips before he raises his hand and leans close to her.

The question is written in his eyes but he feels the need to articulate it anyway: “Can I?”

Elain just nods, her eyes locked on his, her expression no longer playful but almost vulnerable. He averts his eyes from her gaze, focusing on the smear on her cheek instead, and rubs his fingers once over the mark - slow, from the apple of her cheek to her temple. Her skin is even softer than the rose petal he’s just touched and when Elain’s eyes flutter shut at his caress, his heart gives an uneven thump in his chest.

He lets his fingers linger, stretches them out to touch the edge of her jaw and earlobe until he’s cupping her face in his hand and his thumb is tracking the path where the smear once was. When he wipes the remaining moisture from the dew off her face, he lets his hand drop and Elain’s eyes open.

“It’s gone now.” His voice sounds strange and gruff even to his own ears, but if Elain notices, she gives no indication. She places her hand on the ground, right near his thigh and leans in close to him, without saying a word. Her eyes still hold that same vulnerable look and even though she looks fearful, she moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to scare _him_. Her gaze is locked on his and Azriel wants to look anywhere but at her, and at the same time he never wants to tear his eyes away.

She’s close enough that he can count all the freckles scattered on her nose and cheeks, and an odd one near the bow of her lip. He doesn’t dare move, still as a marble statue and has half of mind to stop her when Elain’s breath rushes out of her, almost in a sigh, and he barely has time to realise that she was holding her breath before her lips are on his.

His eyes instantly close and his hand snaps to the curve of her waist, as if drawn by a magnet. Their lips are barely touching but he can feel the softness, the plumpness of her mouth, like an overripe fruit. She brushes her lips against his and presses slightly harder against him and it’s only then that his mind fully registers what’s happening.

He draws his head back and the sheer absence of her feels so wrong that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it before. Elain’s brows are creased and her mouth (which was on his mere seconds ago, Azriel thinks distractedly) is slightly parted. Even though he didn’t think it was possible, his voice sounds even hoarser than before. “Elain, I’m sorry, are you sure you-”

She cuts him off by pressing her lips to his with a lot more urgency than he ever thought Elain was capable of expressing. She jumps on her hands and knees to get close to him and nearly topples in his lap before she gets to his lips. He rises to his knees too and pulls her body closer as soon as his surprise wears off, reason giving in to instinct. Elain brings a hand to his shoulder while the other one tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck and Cauldron damn him who would have guessed Elain Archeron was so bold?!

He runs his tongue on the seam of her lips, desperate for more, and Elain opens up to him with a small sigh that drives Azriel crazy. He pockets the sound in his mind for later but for now, he’s focused on seeing what other delightful sounds he can draw out of Elain. His tongue sweeps into her mouth and she matches his actions without reservation - still a bit fumbling and uncertain, but she’s not nearly as shy and tentative as he’d expected her to be.

She tastes like the strawberries they’ve just eaten and the sweetness is intoxicating. Azriel is overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feel of her. He feels dizzy and drunk off her kiss. He trails the hand on her waist up her back and feels her heart hammering against her ribs and wonders for a moment if she’s feeling as consumed by the kiss as he is. Her fingers curl around the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck and twist them with such gentleness that his heart almost forgets to beat - he has never felt such tenderness expressed in just a touch.

When they part - way too soon, he thinks, but he’s already got so much more than he was willing to ever ask of Elain - Azriel watches Elain in awe, searching for the right words to tell her but failing, so he chooses to stay silent. Elain’s face is overtaken by a rosy flush under his scrutiny but her words surprise him just as much as the kiss itself: “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I can’t stand seeing you this miserable. There has to be something I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, I’m capable of writing fluff, who would have believed it?

Rhys walked into the small apartment and shrugged off his jacket. He haphazardly hung it on the coat rack and kicked off his shoes before announcing: “I’m home!”

He got no reply so he padded into the living room in search for his fiancée. He found her where he was expecting: curled up on their plush sofa, her head and upper body propped on a small mountain of pillows, an old quilted blanket half tangled around her fluffy sock clad feet and half on the floor. She was dressed in her favourite pair of soft pyjama pants and one of his old shirts, her hands clutching at the worn material around her stomach and her face was tear stained and red.

“Oh, Feyre, darling,” he said as he bent down to brush the hair from her eyes and press his lips to her forehead. Rhysand’s tone could have been mistaken for pity but he knew Feyre would see it for what it was - helplessness. He moved around the couch and grabbed the blanket from the floor and covered her, tucking it softly under her chin. She closed her eyes at the small comfort. “The tears are really starting to worry me, should I take you to a hospital?”

Feyre shook her head, and opened her eyes to look at him. “My heart is in a lot more pain than my uterus right now, “ Feyre sniffed and pointed with her chin to the TV. Rhysand turned and saw Simba nuzzling his father’s lifeless body on the small screen. “The uterus is pretty bad too, though,” she continued. “I’m pretty sure it’s trying to kill itself and kill me in the process too.” She winced and clutched her stomach as another wave of pain made its way through her body.

Rhysand grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed gently at Feyre’s wet cheeks. “I can’t stand seeing you this miserable. There has to be something I can do.”

“Well some cuddling may or may not make me feel a bit better,” Feyre said looking up at him. “Suri lasted all of five minutes before he ran away, the heartless furball! I think the tears might have scared him away,” she admitted.

“How rude of that tuna-loving rascal!” Rhys teased. As if summoned, the cat walked into the room, its tail high in the air and meowed loudly at his owners. “I’ll go feed him first and be right back,” he promised, and turned to march into the kitchen.

“Bring ice-cream too,” Feyre called after him. “And a big spoon!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: slow dancing with no music on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very cheesy. very cliché. i don't care.

The cold air rushed in through the door, and so did they. Bundled up in jackets and scarves, and tripping over their feet, Nesta and Cassian entered the apartment and closed the door behind them. 

Nesta stumbled and nearly toppled over trying to remove her wet boots in the dark, but Cassian rushed and grabbed her by the waist before she could fall. 

“Hey, there,” he said, pulling her close to his chest. Nesta’s cheeks were flushed—both from the chill in the air, and the bottle of wine they’d shared—and she smiled softly at him, her expression unguarded for once. Cassian placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled down, slowly unzipping her boots and pulling them off while Nesta held onto him. 

“Thanks,” she murmured as Cassian rose, his hand trailing the length of her leg before finally settling on her hip. Her eyes were closed, and she tilted her face up to him, her hand making its way from his shoulder to the dark curls at the nape of his neck. 

These were his most favourite moments. Simple, mundane things like coming back to their apartment, happy, and drunk, and in love, filled him with overwhelming emotions. He couldn’t believe the woman in front of him had finally chosen him. She was his, and he was hers, and that’s all that mattered. He took in her face in this rare moment of vulnerability, her features soft and open, and he leaned down, overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her. 

“Your shoes are soaking the rug and getting my socks wet, Cass,” she said before his lips had time to meet hers.

He snorted—her timing was incredible!—and kicked off his shoes without moving. His free hand reached Nesta’s zipper and unzipped her jacket, before removing her hat and scarf and throwing them on the nearby coat rack. Nesta brought her other hand to the nape of his neck and leaned her head on his chest while he struggled to shrug his jacket off. He threw his own jacket haphazardly on the coat rack too and snaked his arms around Nesta’s waist. 

A feeling of complete calmness settled over him. Having Nesta in his arms felt like being home, and he’d never felt like home anywhere before, but he did now. With her. A sudden thought planted itself in his mind, and the epiphany made him freeze for a second. 

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. 

There was no doubt about it. He wondered if perhaps this was something he had known for awhile but had never acknowledged. She was the best thing in his life, and there was no way he was going to ever let her go. There would never be anyone else for him but her. 

His arms tightened around her, and he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Nesta hummed contently, unaware of his realisation, and she slowly started swaying her hips. 

A slow smile stretched over his lips. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

“Dancing, Cass. I hoped you’d be familiar with the concept,” she said. She didn’t raise her head to look at him, and simply continued to sway from side to side.

“There’s no music playing,” he said, but he already knew it didn’t matter. He was moving along with her anyway, following a silent melody only they could hear, and Cassian thought that if he could relive a moment over and over again for his whole life, he’d choose this one. He’d slow dance in his apartment entryway, with his heart full of love, and the person he loved most in his arms for the rest of eternity. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Baby it's cold outside

“Oh, I’ve had such a great time,” Elain said with a sigh. She wiped the tears that had escaped the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard. A wide smile still stretched her lips from cheek to cheek. “I really can’t stay, though.”

She got up from the couch, her face flushed from the wine, and reached to get her coat from where she had left it draped over an armchair. Mor instantly shot to her feet and clasped Elain’s delicate wrist in her hand, a reproachful look on her face. “Baby, it’s cold outside!” 

Elain’s cheeks warmed at the term of endearment. Such words were not popular in the human realm and she felt like everything in Prythian was so new and strange, and the people were so forward! And Mor, most of all, had no qualms about being affectionate with her.

“Mor, I’ve got to go away. This evening has been so wonderful, but I must go home.” Elain tried to reach her coat once again as she protested, but Mor kept tugging on her hand playfully until the backs of her knees hit the couch. 

“Elain, dear, it’s cold outside!” she said with a smile. She tugged on Elain’s hand once more, and they both fell onto the sofa, side by side. Mor covered Elain’s palms with her own and faked a gasp. “And your hands are like ice! You’ll freeze out there!”

“Feyre will start to worry,” Elain objected, but she was smiling at Mor’s antics. 

“Elain, really, why are you in such a hurry?”

“Nesta is surely pacing the floors by now!” Mor snorted indelicately. “Really, I’d better scurry.” 

“Beautiful,” Mor moaned, a pout on her full lips. Elain paused at the pet name, her hand frozen in mid-air, and Mor pressed on. “Please don’t hurry. Just wait until the snow stops, at least!” 

“Well…maybe just half a drink more.” Mor instantly snatched Elain’s wine glass and started pouring. “Half! Half, Mor, not that much!” Mor handed Elain a nearly full glass of wine without even looking sheepish. Elain was exasperated and stared into the blood red liquid, a crease between her eyebrows. “You know, the neighbours might think…”

“Elain, it’s so bad out there!” Mor tilted Elain’s chin, and her gaze bore into hers. Mor’s eyes looked like rich chocolate with flecks of pure gold speckled in them, and Elain thought she could look into them forever. She didn’t know what had overcome her.

“Say, what’s in this drink?” Elain’s whole body was hot and cold at the same time, and she felt frozen as if by magic, utterly transfixed. Staying with Mor instead of going out in the snow didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “At least I’m going to say that I tried,” she relented. 

“See, what would be the the sense in hurting my pride?” Mor agreed. She drew closer to Elain and draped her long legs over her lap, resting her feet on the armrest and trapping Elain in. Elain’s heart sped up at the intimate contact, and when she turned her head, Mor’s face was so close that Elain’s breath remained trapped in her chest. The expression the older fae wore was positively mischievous.

“No, I simply must go!” She pushed Mor’s legs off of her and got to her feet. “I have enjoyed myself immensely. Your welcome has been so nice and warm but I can’t stay.”

“But look out the window at that storm! Velaris hasn’t seen such a bad blizzard in decades - you’ll die of frostbite!” Mor put her hands on Elain’s waist and turned her to the wide window of the living room. Her apartment overlooked the frozen Sidra, and a completely snowed in Velaris. 

“I thought Velaris didn’t get much snow,” Elain mussed. “I can’t! Azriel will be suspicious!” Mor twisted Elain around to face her, and for a moment her expression looked annoyed - possibly at the mention of another fae male’s name, Elain thought. But immediately after, her eyes fell to Elain’s lips, and the seer could see the longing in Mor’s gaze. She felt Mor’s fingers tighten on her waist slightly.

“Gosh, your lips look delicious!” 

Elain stumbled back in surprise, her face burning. “Cassian will be there at the door!” she warned. “And Rhys’s mind is vicious! I’ve got to get home.” She hurried to get her coat and managed to put one arm inside a sleeve before she heard Mor’s laughter in her ear as the fae put her own arm in the other sleeve and grabbed Elain’s waist under the fabric with the other, both of them sharing the coat. Elain hurried to take the coat off and break the embrace. 

Mor’s eyes sparkled as she teased Elain. “You don’t have a coat now, baby! You’ll freeze out there!”

“Say lend me a coat?” Elain asked, but she was already putting on one of Mor’s winter coats she had found hanging on the coat rack. 

“The coat will do nothing against the snow, Elain. It’s up to your knees out there!” She angled herself in front of the door as Elain refused to listen and Elain found herself nose to nose with Morrigan once more. “How can you do this thing to me?” she pleaded.

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow! There’ll be plenty implied and they’ll never let me live this down!” Elain felt as if she was arguing with a brick wall, though. Mor seemed determined not to give in. 

“Just think of how heartbroken I’d be if you caught pneumonia and died. I’d never forgive myself!” 

Elain sighed at the look of mock-agony on Mor’s face. “Okay just another drink then…” Mor was already grinning as she dragged Elain by the hand back into the living room. “But only until the snow stops, Mor! Nesta will send a search party through the entire Night Court for me if I don’t return soon!...”

 

***

 

“... As soon as the snow stops, you have to winnow me back or I’ll walk to the townhouse through the snow!” 

Mor ushered Elain to the couch and picked up the empty wine glasses, smiling widely. “Of course, my dear!” she reassured Elain. “I’ll bring more wine.” 

She hurried to the pantry, grabbed a new bottle of Merlot and set it on the kitchen counter. She picked up a pen and scribbled a quick message on a piece of paper before making it disappear and heading back to the living room to Elain. 

_ My dearest Viv,  _

_ Thank you for the help. The plan worked - she’s staying a bit longer! You can stop the snow in a couple of hours. Thank Kallias for all the help too. I bet the citizens of Velaris have never seen this much snow in their life! Oh, the things we do for love... _

_Yours truly,_ _  
__Morrigan_


End file.
